The Midst of Suspicion
by Misha Tedesco
Summary: Rochelle has left the Order to join the Guard, and has undergone endless interrogation to prove her trustworthiness. Will the Guard ever truly trust her, and let her join their ranks? This story focuses on Rochelle's redemption, and her relationship with Arkarian between The Named and The Dark.


**Hello, dear readers. I am attempting to come out of a nasty bout of writer's block, and so I present to you chapter one of 'The Midst of Suspicion.' This story was inspired by Rochelle's relationship with Arkarian, and the fact that he was the only one who ever seemed to trust her completely, which I wish was explored more in the books. It takes place after The Named when Rochelle defects from the Order, to the beginning of The Dark when she officially joins the Guard. I believe the finished product will be three chapters long. **

**I don't mean to beg, but reviews absolutely make my day. I would love to know what you think of this chapter, and what you hope to see in the next two chapters. Just let me know you're out there!**

**As always, please enjoy.**

I have got to get out of here. It feels like it has been months since the battle in the Ardennes, and I am still being held captive in this godforsaken prison. Hell, maybe it's been years. Who knows? Time is impossible to measure in the place.

I'm sitting on wooden stool in one of the Citadel's many rooms. I've been in the Citadel plenty of times of course, before each mission for the Order, but I'm still adjusting to the sections of the labyrinth used by the Guard. This particular room is dark, apart from one light shining right above my head. Rather than illuminating the space around me, it casts a blinding light on me while keeping the rest of the room shrouded in darkness. It reminds me of an interrogation room in an old fashioned crime drama, but rather than a charming detective grilling me, today I am told that I will have the pleasure of being interrogated by the Guard's own immortal.

Since abandoning Marduke in the Ardennes, I have been locked up in various Citadel safe rooms, and interrogated more thoroughly than I ever thought possible. Just thinking about it causes me to groan in frustration. The interrogation has so far been carried out by each member of the Tribunal, and their questions range from my childhood with my father, to my work for the Order as Marduke's favorite minion. I wouldn't wish this grueling ordeal on anyone, though I know that it is no more than a traitor like me deserves.

The first to question me was Lord Penbarin, a gargantuan man who is nothing if not direct, and gave the impression that he would like to get the questioning over with as soon as possible. After his hostile interrogation came Lady Devine, with her blood-red hair that reminded me unpleasantly of the Goddess. Meridian came next, who, while not intimidating physically, gave the impression of being able to see right through me. Queen Brystianne followed in all her splendor, sharp yet not unkind. Sir Syford towered over me, and made his mistrust of me plain as anything as he asked me his questions. Elenna, a serious and shrewd woman, made me feel like I a small child. Lord Alexandon was less antagonistic than the rest, and made me feel safe while making it clear that he possessed great power, and would use it if he felt I was being deceitful. Arabella was last, her frigid demeanor matching her appearance perfectly. Her obvious disdain for me felt almost petty at times, and I was happy to see the back of her when she finally decided she was through with me.

Predictably, I did not get off that easily, and after each round of questions by one of the Tribunal members, I was asked the same questions yet again by the other seven just to make sure my stories stayed straight. Each member's line of questioning lasted days at a time, and very nearly drove me mad. The worst, however, was the next phase of my debriefing. Words could only tell so much, but my thoughts could betray me.

I was placed in a room with strange walls, which I soon realized was a kind of echo chamber. Not only did this room amplify physical sounds, but also thoughts for those who were able to hear them. I sat in this room in seclusion for days, while each Tribunal member took turns guarding my every moment. At the best of times I could not have hidden my thoughts from these powerful beings, and in this betraying room I had no hope. Although I kept my thoughts totally unblocked and opened to the Tribunal throughout the interrogation, this was different. Here, each and every one of my most private thoughts, even the nonsensical ones that came unbidden to my mind bounced off the walls of this room so loudly I may as well have been screaming. My every thought was torn apart and analyzed, even while I slept. Had I been keeping anything hidden, I would have been discovered, and probably executed, within minutes.

The only caveat to the use of this room, which I could tell greatly annoyed each of my guards, was that I could hear their thoughts as well. I heard every single doubt they had about me, every single disparaging thought about my past deeds, my confessions, and my troubled life. Not a single one of these supreme beings had faith in me. I was not only a former member of the Order, but a traitor at that. It didn't seem to matter much that I had betrayed the Order in favor of the Guard. A traitor is a traitor, and I was reminded of this fact constantly.

The only thing that kept me sane through this trial was that I knew it would be exponentially worse if I was defecting from the Guard to the Order, rather than the other way around. Lathenia is a fan of torturing her soldiers, both as a form of punishment and reward. Betray her, and she would ensure that you would never do it again. Do her bidding, and you would be reminded of exactly why you must always continue to serve her. I may have been threatened, screamed at, and demeaned by the Tribunal, but never harmed. Even now as the interrogation continues, I have to keep reminding myself that, as awful as this is, I could have justifiably been put to death for my crimes. The Guard is giving me a chance, and I have to take it. There is no alternative.

A soft sound interrupts my reverie, and before I can wonder what it is, a figure materializes a few feet in front of me. Though my surroundings were previously pitch dark, this figure is silhouetted by a faint glow. I try to locate the new light source, but the glow seems to be emanating from this figures own skin. I can see that this person is as tall as Lathenia, but broader, and wears a silver tunic and hooded cloak. This must be Lorian, Lathenia's brother, and head of the Guard.

A chill descends straight through to my bones. I try to make out the features of his face as I squint in the bright light overhead, but I can only make out his eyes, violet and bright underneath his hood. Almost as soon as I catch his gaze, I have to look away. Even this brief glimpse has drained me, and I find myself panting slightly.

"Rochelle Thallimar," he says in a deceptively soft voice that manages to emanate throughout the entire room. Anyone might think that he says my name as a form of greeting, but I know that this is not the case. He says my name like it is an object being presented to him for assessment. He doesn't continue right away, but stands there taking me in through his violet orbs. I sense this rather than see it. I'm not in a hurry to look into his face again.

I've never met an immortal apart from the goddess, and I feel fear settling into the pit of my stomach as he regards me. For a moment, my conditioning kicks in, and before I can stop myself I am thinking that I must not show weakness in the face of the enemy. Lorian's eyes flash dangerously as he hears this thought, and there is suddenly a flare of heat in the room. I can feel anger radiating off of him in waves. It is the same powerful energy that I felt whenever I angered the Goddess.

At the thought of Lorian's sister, the heat becomes stifling, and Lorian takes three long strides towards me. He stops mere inches in front of my stool. I turn my face downward so as not to risk catching his eye. If the effort was taxing before I upset him, I do not want to find out what it would be like to hold his gaze when I can all but hear the fire crackling behind his eyes.

"Do not make the mistake," I hear him say in a low tone, "of thinking that I am any less dangerous than my sister."

Great. He hasn't spent two minutes in the room with me, and I've already angered him twice. Will I get a third strike? I'm not sure I want to find out. "I… I didn't mean…" I attempt to stutter out an apology, but I stop myself. He knows my thoughts. There's no point. Whether he finds me worthy to join the Guard or not will be based entirely on the inner workings of my mind and soul. I sit in silence, and wait for the interrogation to begin.

He continues to stand in front of me for what I'm sure must be several minutes. I clasp my sweaty hands tightly in my lap in an effort to remain calm. Finally, I hear an intake of breath, and he begins. "Rochelle, you have been interrogated by each and every member of the Tribunal, who together run the Guard. They have delved into the innermost depths of your mind, and they have reported their findings back to me." He pauses, and lets his words sink in. I wonder how I'm supposed to respond to this. Does he mean that he has made his decision? I move my hands from my lap to the sides of my stool in an attempt to steady myself.

"I have carefully considered all that has transpired. The decision is near at hand, but there is yet one more question that I must ask you." I clench my jaw and cease breathing all together. After all this, my fate depends on one final question. My mind races through everything I've been asked so far. What more could he want to know? What single question could be so telling that my whole life hangs on my answer? Time seems to stand still as I wait for the penny to drop.

"Why, Rochelle Thallimar, should we trust you to join our ranks?"

At first, I think I missed part of the question. I lift my head slightly, so that I am staring at the immortal's chest, which is the closest thing to eye contact that I trust myself with. I release my breath, and it rushes out in both surprise and relief. "Why should you trust me?"

Lorian does not move, or make any indication that he has heard my question. I wish I could look into his face and try to gauge his expression. I don't understand the question, which is unlike any other that I have been asked so far. When I was told that Lorian would be the one interrogating me, I had been prepared for more questions about the Order's inner workings, the number of soldiers, future missions, and the like. Not that I have anything left volunteer. I have been truthful, and told them everything I know.

But why should they trust me?

"I am awaiting your answer," I hear him say. It sounds like a command. Hell, I'm awaiting my answer too. What do I say to such a question?

Suddenly, I realize that I'm angry. Haven't I already proven myself? Haven't I given them everything that they have asked for, and dealt with imprisonment for months on end? And now I am being asked why I should be trusted?

My fingers turn white on my stool, and with the feeling of a dam bursting, I launch into my answer. "I've been a member of the Order for most of my life. I've gone on missions, and I have hurt, sometimes killed, members of the Guard. Your soldiers. And I can't say that I did this against my will. I knew what I was doing. I was taught to lie, and to manipulate those around me. I have even done this to member of your precious Named. The only reason I am sitting here right now is because Isabel spared me in the Ardennes, and showed me mercy that I know I don't deserve. But here I am, whether I deserve to be or not. I have done everything you have asked me to do, but I know that this is not enough. The Guard will never trust me, no matter how long I sit in this horrible place and spill all my secrets to you.

"Why should you trust me? To be honest, you probably shouldn't. The only way that I can prove to anyone beyond a doubt that they can trust me is through my actions. Until then, I am just meaningless words and thoughts. But let me out of this prison, let me join your ranks, and I will show you that I can be trusted."

I take a deep breath after my speech, and make a split second decision. I lift my head the final few inches from the immortal's chest up to his eyes, and hold his gaze. He stares back, his expression blank, but his skin seems more luminous than it did a moment ago. His eyes smolder, but I don't look away, even when my throat goes dry, and my eyes start to burn.

The seconds tick by, feeling like an eternity. As before, I feel my breath shorten with the effort, and I put all my focus on breathing normally. I must not be the first to look away.

After a few more moments, I feel myself begin to shake, and the room starts to swim around me. A pain starts in the front of my head behind my eyes, and slowly spreads across my skull. Everything is growing darker, and I am vaguely aware that I am leaning forward too far. I wonder idly if I'm going to fall off the stool, and onto the cold tiled floor.

I can still see Lorian's violet eyes, but they're fuzzy now. As if in slow motion, they fade from my vision, until I'm looking towards the floor. My surroundings swim around me. I note with mild interest that I must be falling, and I watch the floor speed ever closer towards my face.

"Whoa there. Steady."

I don't recognize this voice, and I try to look around to find the source. A shock of blue is the last thing I see before I lose consciousness.

**And there you have it. Chapter two is partially written, and will be posted as soon as possible. I promise lots of Arkarian is on the way. Here is a teaser for chapter two:**

_"__I'm sorry about that," Arkarian says, and I assume he is referring to my loss of consciousness, though that was my own fault. "Holding an immortal's gaze is an immense challenge at the best of times. You managed to do it while he was probing into the depths of your mind."_

_"__So that's what that feeling was. I felt it spread from my eyes all across my head. It…" I trail off. It hurt, but there's no need to draw attention to that. I've suffered worse at the hands of my step father, not to mention the Goddess herself. _

_Arkarian smiles gently, and I feel my face flush once again._

**That's all for now. Please review!**


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